Crimes and Punishment
by amsayy
Summary: Out of all the illegal bullshit Eric does, getting arrested on a minor drug dealing charge was the least of his worries. Until his angry little lawyer Jew boyfriend demands they move back to South Park to start anew. For the South Park Drabble Bomb


"This ends, and this ends now, Cartman."

So he was Cartman today. Of course. Eric was only Cartman when Kyle was absolutely fucking livid. Eric would have clinched at it, if he wasn't in a horrible fucking mood himself.

"It's about god damned time, Jewboy," Eric spat back, raising his head and flicking his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes as he looked at Kyle through the bars of his holding cell. He'd been here three days. Three fucking days. Eric had called him, about to explain himself but Kyle had cut him off, cursing up a storm before telling him to go fuck himself. That he wasn't going to stand for being used as Eric's personal sex toy slash attorney. He'd hung up before Eric had gotten a word in, and left Eric to sit in wait.

And Eric was just as pissed, now. He had days worth of stubble and not a proper thing to eat. His back was aching from the metal bed with a thin sheet of foam. He wanted to go home, order something from Just Eat, and fuck his Jew and go to bed. Not sit here and get lectured from Kyle "I have my law degree now" Broflovski. But Kyle wasn't too amused, and Eric watched as he clenched his jaw, hands tightening on on the metal bars until his knuckles went white from lack of circulation. "You'd better watch your fucking mouth, because I haven't paid them yet. I just said I was your attorney and wanted to speak with you." Kyle said, voice absolutely venomous. "I can leave you here and let someone else decide what to do with you."

It was an empty threat. They both knew it. Eric couldn't help but roll his eyes, enraging Kyle further. His boyfriend smacked at the bars, growling that trademark angry growl of his that had Eric stifle a laugh. "I'm not fucking around, Cartman! I told you, cut this shit out or you'd end up in prison. You're fucking lucky this is what they got you in for," Kyle hissed, voice low and trying to avoid loudly proclaiming that Eric had a long string of various crimes under his belt.

"So, are you my attorney? Because I'll only speak to my lawyer," Eric spoke, voice sweet and innocent. Kyle's face turned a satisfying shade of red. "After all, we might as well put that law degree I paid for to good use."

And there it was, the trump card that usually got Eric out of the whole lecture on the legalities of what he did. Because Kyle could rant and rave and lecture until he turned blue in the face. But the fact of the matter was simple; the reason Kyle had his degree was because Eric's dealing, the embezzling, the smuggling... it paid for it. It paid for Kyle's designer clothes, the four thousand dollar kitchen table he'd wanted. It paid for a lifestyle Kyle had grown used to, and if he wanted to throw the questionable way Eric had gotten his money at him, Eric would throw it right back. Kyle didn't say anything, but Eric could see his chest rise and fall.

Eric stood, stepping closer to the bars to run his fingers along Kyle's, wrapped around the bar. "Nice suit," he continued. "Armani?"

It wasn't Armani. Eric knew that. He bought the fucking thing. And it did look nice on him, the deep navy contrasting with the orange of his hair. A pleasant change from the usual shades of green that Kyle favoured.

"Westwood," Kyle said, simply. He was rising to Eric's challenge. Good. "Where'd you get it? London? When'd you'd go there? Oh right. Your birthday last year. I wonder who paid for." Eric. It was always Eric. Because Kyle's contributions were school, studying. He threw all of his energy into studying law. How appropriate for a young man involved with a criminal. "Didn't have much of a problem with it then, did you?"

It worked, and Kyle retreated. Anyone else wouldn't have noticed, but Eric saw how his eyes softened. His grip loosened on the bars. How Kyle's shoulders slumped slightly. Eric won.

"I'll post bail, but we're going home," Kyle said. But the way he spoke signalled he didn't mean going back to their condo. Home wasn't downtown Denver. Home, in this case, was... was fucking South Park. "No, absolutely not," Eric said, stepping back and shaking his head. "No fucking way, babe."

So maybe he didn't win.

"I'll post bail, I'll represent you. We'll go to the court dates, I'll work my ass off to get you the most minimal I can. Probably a few weeks of community service, tops." Kyle's bossy bitch tone was a personal favourite of Eric's, but when it wasn't directed at him like it currently was. He couldn't help but feel like a kid in the principals office. "And then we go home, back to South Park. Everyone else is getting settled there. And Stan and Wendy just had a kid, and I'd like to be around my godson. Have a family of our own, or something. Settle do-"

Eric cut Kyle off with a raised hand, shaking his head. "Shut up, Kyle. Seriously, shut up. If you just shut up, I'll agree to whatever the fuck you want? Just get me out of here." The ginger Jew opened his mouth, and Eric reached through the bars to pinch his lips together. "Seriouslah, Kyle. Take that tight ass and cash and just get me out. I'll do whatever the fuck you want me to if you stop nagging and stop at Burger King."

Kyle had gotten his way, in the end. His "payment" (as if Eric didn't give him enough shit) was moving back to South Park to be with their faggy little friends once the court dates passed and Eric's community service was completed. Eric didn't know what was worse. Picking up trash in a lovely shade of conviction orange, or packing all their shit into a couple of moving vans and handing the keys of their rented condo back to the Asian couple who owned the property.

It was a small blessing that Kyle and Eric took separate trucks, because Eric was fucking furious and Kyle's cocky attitude and constant 'I told you this would happen' rants over the last few weeks had made Eric want to shove him out the fucking window. Even more so when Kyle had stood screaming until he nearly passed out, fighting for Eric to pay back all the money he owed his "investors" so he wouldn't end up in prison for a Ponzi scheme.

So now Eric had significantly less money, an irritating and arrogant boyfriend, and was forced back to the shit little podunk town he had rushed to get out of. He couldn't help but wonder how long it would take Kyle to miss his lavish little lifestyle Eric had treated him to for the last few years. That had been a subject of many of the fights they had in the weeks that had past. How Kyle could provide for himself. That he wasn't some kept man. That Eric didn't buy him, and he didn't ask for any of the stuff he had. Which was wrong, because Kyle had wobbled those pouty lips and batted those thick ginger lashes until Eric bought that fucking table. And that was just the table. Never mind the six chairs that had gone with it.

Eric hated that fucking table.

They arrived together, Eric trailing behind Kyle's van and wondering how much shit he'd hear if he rear ended him. It wasn't a long trip, barely two hours, but he was glad to be out of the van. Out and staring up at the ugly fucking apartment building that would be their new home.

Fucking fantastic.

"This is shit, Kyle," was the first thing Eric said to him, and Kyle smacked him in the shoulder. It didn't have much of a bite too it, and when Eric looked at Kyle's face he could see the doubt written all over it. If it wasn't for the fact they had to live here, he would have been satisfied that he was right. "It's nicer on the inside," Kyle said, voice hopeful. But all they'd seen were photos before agreeing to taking the place.

And even with the photos, Eric was far from impressed. "It probably has bed bugs," he grumbled, folding his arms over his large chest. Hell, he'd be surprised if their bed even fit. Kyle looked over and gave him that trademark glare, before snapping. "It doesn't have bed bugs, Cartman!"

So they were back to Cartman. Great. Eric sighed, and held his arm out for Kyle to lead the way into the apartment building. It was a short chat with the super, handing over the keys for both the service elevator to move in and the keys for their new... Eric didn't want to call it home. Nothing about this place screamed 'home.' Fuck, nothing about it even whispered it. And it was worse when they went up, arms laden with boxes they'd packed the elevator full with.

The apartment was... it was small, even for a two bedroom. They knew it was a downsize, obviously. Their previous condo had a nice loft bedroom and an open main floor and a large, luxurious bath that both of them could fit in. When Eric put his boxes on the floor and stepped further into the apartment, he poked his head into the bathroom. "There isn't even a fucking bathtub, Kyle," he called out. When Kyle didn't immediately anything back, he couldn't help but wonder if that little detail was one Kyle knew about and neglected to mention. The little shit. When he came back out to the main room, Kyle had a look on his face that made him feel a little guilty about being mad at him.

Those big green eyes, glistening the with prospect of tears, teeth biting into his wobbling lips. For fucks sake. "Don't cry," Eric groaned. Kyle rarely did, which was strange since it was pretty much the best weapon he had against Eric. He couldn't stand to see his Jew cry, and Kyle knew it. In fact, Eric was surprised at how little he used it. Pride, probably, tjyyubut if Eric knew crying affected Kyle the way Kyle's tears did him, he'd be crying all the fucking time.

Kyle sniffled, and Eric stepped closer before wrapping his arms around Kyle's skinny frame. "It's only temporary," he mumbled, squishing his face into the crook of Eric's shoulder, and Eric sighed. "I know, babe. Just sucks." This change blowed, but it was too late to go back. This was their life right now, and Eric guessed it could be worse. They stood there for a long while, Eric's arms wrapped tightly around Kyle, chin resting in his messy red curls.

"Please don't resent me for this," Kyle said softly after a while, trying to hide his broken voice with Eric's body. God damn it, he tugged at his heart strings and any resentment Eric had was washed away. He couldn't promise he wouldn't resent Kyle, because both of them had the tendency to fling anything at each other while fighting. There was no 'letting bygones be bygones' with them, and Eric was pretty sure he'd fling Kyle making him leave their old life for this new one at him in the future. But that shit was never serious, never really stuff they were mad about and was only used as ammunition to try and win their little battles. "I don't," Eric said, pulling away slightly so he could lean down and press a kiss to Kyle's forehead.

They lingered for a few moments, before hearing a knock on the door that was held open by a box. Neither of them made any move to separate, but both looked at the intruder. Or... intruders.

"Need any help?" Stan asked, letting himself cross the threshold. Wendy followed behind him, arms holding a bundle of blankets against her chest. Behind her was Kenny and his Mini Jew, all of them crowding into the small foyer of the apartment. Kyle perked up in an instant, and Eric's possessive ass held on tighter into Kyle fought his way out of his arms to go sweep little Dick from his mothers arms.

Eric narrowed his eyes at him, but nodded. "Not gonna say no, we have a lot of shi-" Wendy cut him off with a swift kick to the shin. "Language!" He rolled his eyes, but would make an effort to watch his mouth around the kid. Not like he was impressionable yet anyway, he was a three month old baby.

A three month old baby who took Kyle's attention away every time they saw Stan, to the point where Stan even said Kyle only planned things with them now to take Richard.

Kyle was a useless thing, when it came to moving in. He didn't do anything but sit in the apartment with Wendy and Ike and coo over the baby, waving them off and saying Kenny, Stan and Eric were big strong men who could do it themselves. And that too many of them would just make it worse. Excuses, excuses. But he supposed there was some merit to Kyle's excuses, because trying to squish all of them and their stuff in the elevator was a bit of a job and took what felt like two dozen or so trips between the two trucks.

But they did it, brought the furniture and boxes in and let Kyle and Ike push everything into place and piling the boxes waiting to be unpacked in their designated rooms. By dinner time, they had places to sit and dishes to load the pizza they'd ordered upon. The television was plugged in, the king bed assembled and taking up pretty much the entire floor space of the master bedroom. It was small, it would be cramped, and most of their stuff would probably end up kept in boxes in the spare bedroom that also doubled as their new little office. But it would do, Eric supposed.

It would have to.

"I know you hate this place," Kyle said as he struggled to put the bedsheets on the mattress. "But I'm glad we're home, with our friends again. Our families. I missed them." Eric knew that, but it wasn't like they'd lived across the country. It wasn't like Kyle didn't drive out every week, or that Stan and Kenny didn't come into the city to have a guys night with them.

"Your family," Eric corrected, moving to lift up the corner of the mattress so Kyle could fit the fitted sheet on properly. When he did, he looked up at him with a sad look in his eyes. The silent apology was clear in them, and Eric just shrugged before grabbing hold of the ugly blue and orange duvet they were both fond of, flicking it onto the bed whilst Kyle tossed the pillows against the headboard.

They didn't say anything else until they were changed into their pyjamas, and climbed into bed. Even on their worst fights, they slept together, other in the same position they had since they were younger. Kyle curled on his side, head resting on Eric's chest. He started off straight, but through the night Kyle would always tuck his legs up between them to warm his perpetually cold feet. Eric would wrap his arm around Kyle's waist, the other folded over his chest to hold Kyle's hand through the night.

"Tomorrow's a new day," Kyle mumbled, pressing a kiss to Eric's bare chest. "It'll get better."

And though Eric wasn't always an optimist, he knew it'd be alright in the end. He gave Kyle a gentle squeeze, before tilting his head down to kiss the top of his lover's head. "It's never bad when I can wake up with you, babe."


End file.
